From nowhere by MICHAEL NYAGA | Script Revolution

From nowhere

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6pp

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After years of working with the Kenyan anti-poaching task force, Jake Karomaski, a former U.S Navy Seal, has had enough and has vowed to take on the poachers, one bullet at a time!
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Jake Karomaski, a lanky six-foot-tall, rather handsome, boyish looks and with what his seal team sniper buddies termed “leopard green eyes”, was undoubtedly the ultimate sniper. Leopard six, as his buddies called him was no American hero type. He betrayed the very essence of who he was, his training and all. If you saw him on any street café, you`d mistake him for a reporter or perhaps an accountant. In fact, Jake was the silent, one sentence per hour guy, who preferred to not be seen and definitely, not heard. As such, Jake was well versed in the art of SERE, or survival, evade, resist and escape, and all that came with being in an elite navy seal sniper team. Jake had always loved traveling. His parents had seen to it that their kids held a global view of things, and as such, had addressed this view by globe-trotting everywhere within their reach and budget. One of their favorite trips was watching the Wildebeest migration off the Masai Mara every year, as the animals crossed over from the Kenyan southern part of Tsavo into the Tanzanian Serengeti plains. He felt so close to African wildlife and made a note to offer his services and time whenever such an opportunity arose. That opportunity did arise sooner than he`d expected. Upon retiring from the Navy, Jake happened to watch a video on CNN, showing merciless killings of endangered rhinos for their highly-priced horns. The video showed in grisly detail, poachers sawing off horns from injured and still alive rhinos with no mercy or regard. Jake had seen enough.
Several years later, while working with the Kenyan anti-poaching unit, Jake saw no end to his frustrations with the slow-moving administrative processes and the somewhat deliberately delayed reaction times inhibited by his government-run, ill-equipped, ill-trained anti-poaching unit. Poachers were sponsored by well-paying cartels, who equipped them with the latest weapons and ensured that they were given up to date, mission-critical information. The poachers always seemed to know the exact locations of these rhinos, and that to Jake indicated an informer from within his own unit. Cartels had the wherewithal and the money to pay and compromise any government agent or higher-ups, from the very top down to the anti-poaching unit itself. Try as he might, Jake could not uncover who the cartels were or their informers. This was by any measure, a lost cause. There was no way he`d make a meaningful dent into this failing battle to save the rhinos. Unless of cause he did the unthinkable and took the law into his own hands. Inviting as it may, but unthinkable. Or not!
It was the first week of January. The sun had just begun to make its eventual easterly appearance, and the air was heavy with rhino poop. The night before, a light fog had set in prior to an unexpected short bust of heavy downpour, a rarity this time of the season. Rains were not due until the end of March. As expected, January was as predicted, punishingly hot and now with last night`s mystery rain and fog, damp and sticky. Nothing like a foggy, hot, damp, rhino poop smelling day to begin your dramatic illegal sojourn into the unknown.
Jake lay still as a pile of rocks. Not even the rhino poop inches from his face distracted him. Not even the safari ants making a bee-line to the poop worried him. Definitely not the hot and damp weather that made him sweat like a death-row inmate being issued his last rights. According to Jake, all this was nothing. He`d been trained to embrace the suck; “Embrace the suck,” had become their motto at hell-week, the infamous two weeks U.S Navy Seal BUDS training camp. Only the best of the best made it out of BUDS, the basic underwater demolition seal training. The secret was all in your mind. How you aligned your thoughts and mind to take on anything and everything. Jake had glided through BUDS. A walk in the park indeed! His greatest asset was in his mind. He had found a way to manipulate his brain into whatever he perceived as reality or truth. He always insisted that if one could learn to control their mind and thoughts, then by extension, they could easily learn how to control their bodies. Where the mind goes, the body follows, he`d always say. He was covered from head to toe with camouflage identical to his natural surroundings. Groups of man-made scrubs mimicking the real ones, engulfed him in such a manner as to suggest, nothing unnatural there. His three main weapons of choice, a McMillan Tac-338B, sniper rifle, with a .338 Lapua Magnum or .338 Norma Magnum cartridges for pure and certain precision. Equipped with both a sound suppressor and night vision support, the Tac-338B is a silent and potent killer, with a maximum effective range of 1500m (1640 yards). Its sister, the McMillan Tac-50, sniper rifle, is the ultimate sweeper. It comes with the uber-powerful, 12.7x99mm (.50 BMG) anti-armor, anti-material battlefield round, meant to penetrate any target and utterly destroy it beyond recognition. Since evasion is vital, this rifle does its job from 6561 feet (2000 meters; 2187 yards), with near-perfect accuracy. When things get out of hand, there`s the dependable and highly efficient Colt M4A1 5.56 NATO. This must-have special operations peculiar weapon comes with all sorts of goodies; sound suppressor, grenade launcher, night vision and shotgun enabled. Ideal for close-quarters battles.
Muvudo and Kama worked their way into the almost bare landscape, crouching between intermittent scrubs, and expertly slithering towards their target; a lone female white rhino, fifty feet downrange. They were a regular couple here who made numerous trips to these grasslands, south of Tsavo national park in Kenya. Their sole mission was to kill as quietly as possible, saw off the rhino`s horn(s) and exit unnoticed. They had done it on numerous occasions before, perhaps even hundreds of times. Muvudo, a well-built forty-something, was the lead sniper-shooter, while Kama, the talkative argumentative sort, was the spotter-tracker. They both hailed from Maputo, Zimbabwe, and had fallen into this honey-hole of a gig through sheer luck. As the story goes, Kama had been hauling copper deposits from his country to Kenya, and on his return trip, he would haul soda ash deposits from Kenya. It was during one of those return trips that he ran into some office types who urged him to drop off some well-wrapped cargo to the neighboring Somali port, Kismayo, in exchange for what he called “heaven money.” In his formative years, Kama had been a hunter, gatherer type. He had grown up living off the land back in his native offshoot of a village, Takwa. However, that was hard living and as such, he opted for the easier and higher paying job of a long-distance truck driver. It had been a well-thought and well-lived decision until that eventful occasion that commenced the beginning of what Kama referred to as “living in interesting times.”
With the Tac-338B firmly in his grasp and set on night-mode, Jake steadied his breathing and as he exhaled, he gently released the trigger sending a single .338 Lapua Magnum silent killer round into the night.
Kama felt tense and an awkward feeling suck into his stomach as he lay prone on the ground. It was unusually quiet. Sitting a couple of yards ahead of him, Muvudo double-checked his gun sight and adjusted it accordingly. It was about time he replaced his aging AK-47. He was a professional hunter now and needed to act like one. Perhaps an American made rifle with a sound suppressor and definitely equipped with some sort of night vision package. Yeah, that would definitely up his kill ratio. Most definitely. Money in the bank. The funny thing is, Muvudo never saw himself as a poacher. Hell no! He was a professional marksman and a businessman. In any case, wild animals where there to be consumed not adored. They belonged to nobody and as such, “finder`s keepers” applied.
He felt a cold chill all over and as he looked aft, he suddenly froze. Kama jumped to his feet and looked dead ahead. What, he exclaimed as Muvudo suddenly spun into the air right before his very eyes.
Jake hurriedly packed his Tac-33B into his gear bag and silently retraced his steps, zip-zagging as he retreated back to his camouflaged jeep, two clicks away. Tonight was the start of things to come. He felt assuredly calm to the point that a joke was in the offing. A well-told joke by his team buddies that erupted a nostalgia of sorts. Well, the story goes that Jake, then a rookie,

Submitted: October 24, 2019
Last Updated: March 21, 2020

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The Writer: MICHAEL NYAGA

My name is Michael Nyaga, a former resident of Atlanta, Georgia, with 20 years Stateside. Currently, I`m back home in Nairobi, Kenya. I`m an aspiring data scientist with a passion for movies (script writing and acting) and flying. I`ve had numerous episodes and experiences while residing in the States and as a result, in addition to my background, I happen to have a treasure trove of ideas and themes! I see the world as it is; reality vs the unknown! There`s plenty we as a human race don`t know and probably will never know or what to know! I believe in listening to every story and experience with open thought and wonder. I`m open to all possibilities; know knowns, known unknowns and unknown... Go to bio

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